Projection 2 - Metamorphosen

in a green light, a tree spray,
an ivy amber, a distant
scatter of water, a playfulness
among white rocks,
dappled and flecked,
whiskers twitching -
*
a thin sheet, still
and still moving, crystal
and glass, shatter and flash,
and beyond it and above,
rock, as continuous
and fleeting
as the spray below -
*
the scalpeled
roots clutch
the earth and the sky as, above,
the branches flex and
sail the wind -
take this route -
*
but the space is narrow – move
across the rutted tracks
to hedgerow, and stand
and stare at globe and petal, and see
close into the flower and shrink and settle
on the sepal of one,
so close that its yellow
is all around – consumes -
the yellow a bed of fur, the stamen
a pylon -
move legs and feel them six
and chew mandibles
and, beyond, see
mites - juicy, black grapes,
ripe beneath the leaves of a
mourning tree -
*
fall from the yellow
to the glow below and hit on
hard casing, legs
flailing, and think to hang
from inside the blue
of a hairbell, and see
a drone standing on the petals
of a poppy, as they tremble
like a ship in a storm-swell,
or a fly
perched on the purple red
of a tube of vetch,
upraised wings flexing - and,
a black shadow of bird,
mad bird, come over
and beak and let fall
into wrinkled, in-turned leaves -
take comfort in the red shell-casing
and the two black spots, sure
signs of foulness, and sense
the calling Skylark and the Swift
hold their distance -
*
and, remembering, draw back
the wing cases and, hearing hinge and sinew,
draw out spider-web arcs
into the crystal of light,
and muscle-
motion
into the sky -